Dreamless
by NellietheMarvelous
Summary: Set somewhere in their relationship. It still haunts her. It still invades her dreams. She wonders if that will ever stop. It's been years - doesn't it go away at some point?


**Disclaimer: Not mine.  
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**A/N: I NEEDED to write this. Also, I have no idea why I keep writing random little short one shots but I like them...so, enjoy.  
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It's a dark jumbled mess. A thought maybe. Something wrapping around her, forcing the air out of her lungs, making her gasp as she tries to refill them. It's a sound in the night, a cry that pulls her out. A sharp protest that has her sitting up, eyes opening and chest burning. It aches. Physically hurts and Kate looks down at her sweater as if it will somehow instill in her brain that none of this was real. That she isn't bleeding out, that she's fine. That the sharp cry wasn't from her loved ones as she took a sniper's round to heart but merely a strangled sob ripped from her own throat. It doesn't help. It's still aching, almost itching and she tugs the collar down, rubs her fingers over the damp scar between her breasts.

It still haunts her. It still invades her dreams. She wonders if that will ever stop. It's been years - doesn't it go away at some point? She hates being like this. Sweaty and shaking in the pale moonlight that dances through the window. Afraid to go back to sleep because what if this is the dream? What if that's her reality? It's not and she _knows _that but the thought still nags. It still pushes against her, makes her curl her knees up to her chest and drop her forehead against them.

A deep breath in to try and calm herself, to stop the tremble in her limbs and then she lets it out, hoping her body will relax as she expels the air. It almost works. The ache in her chest lessening as she focuses on what's real. This. This is real. She's in a bed, not the grass. She's warm, not cold. She's alive, not dying. These are things she knows to be true.

Her blood is still rushing, heart still beating erratically against her ribs. She lets her fingers brush up her side, pushing the fabric out of the way until she feels the smooth edges of yet another scar that mars her flesh. The one that saved her life. It's real. It pulls uncomfortably sometimes - the nerves tangled together but it's reaffirming.

She can do this. She isn't going to panic because she's here. She's okay. There's absolutely nothing wrong with her. She's healthy and she's -

"S'wrong?" His voice is gruff, low, sleepy but it might as well be the shot that pierced through her. Silent. Deadly. It makes her jump. Scares her out of her skin and has her raising her head, sucking at the air faster as if she's drowning.

And then he's touching her, stroking a hand over her back as he pushes up off the mattress. This man. The one who loves her so fiercely, he's what saves her. He brings her back. Calms her down with just a touch of his warm fingers. Just the whisper of her name in the dark and the ache in her chest eases into a dull pang.

She's okay for him. She's a better woman than she used to be. She's everything she wants and she isn't going to let her irrational torturous mind get the best of her. She isn't going to let a nightmare send her spiraling. Even if it's the second one she's had this month. It makes sense, she knows, since it's the anniversary of when her life dangled in the balance - when her heart gave out. When she flat-lined.

She won. She's alive. She turns into him, dropping back to the bed to be closer to him, to press her body into his. He doesn't seem to care that she's covered in sweat, that her clothes are damp. He pulls her closer and she goes willingly. Her legs weave with his, an arm wrapping around his waist as his hand presses into the curve of her spine.

"Bad dream?" He helps like this. He asks, he cares. He loves and that's enough to keep her from slipping. She nudges her nose into his as she gives a nod that he probably can't see.

A shaky breath escapes but it's not from her this time, it's his and she knows where his mind is running off to. He knows her well. All her faults, all she aspires to be. The things that lurk in the shadows of her mind, the way she smiles at inappropriate jokes when no ones around. It's no surprise really that he knows why she's awake and trembling. Why the urge to physically purge herself of the bile rising in her throat.

But she chokes it down, breathes him in, lets her fingers clench against him, pushing them into his back. Anchoring herself here in this moment. He doesn't complain.

"I'm okay." It's more for herself than for him but the words are out. Dying in the small space between their mouths. Alive for just a brief second but having a lasting effect on both of them.

"Was it about -"

"Yeah." The soft brush of his lips against hers grounds her. Stop the tremble in her body, the desperation in her touch. The ache disappears and she's resurfacing. Rising out of the pool of emotion she's been fighting against. He saves her. Every time. He saves her.

It's the hushed conversation he offers in an attempt to lull her back to sleep. It's the whisper of his name, an affectionate flourish that hardly masks the fact that she can't believe half the things that come out of his mouth. The laugh he pulls out of her, the brush of his fingers beneath her sweater, over her stomach, along her ribs. Soft caress and warm mouth. Lips against her jaw, biting kisses down her neck.

The 'I love you' that's said when he swipes his tongue against the scar. An echo of the very words he said _that _day as she bled out in his arms. It's everything he is. Everything she loves. Everything that keeps her away from the black hole of her dreams. They're here. They're together and that's enough. It eases her mind, makes it possible for her to close her eyes, enjoy the feel of him.

Later, when she finally drifts off with his head pillowed on her chest, it's dark and peaceful. A dreamless bliss.


End file.
